


A common purpose

by Gentrychild



Series: Ascalon [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: A lot of people are getting killed, Gen, Monsters living among us, Urban Fantasy, Violence Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-07 15:13:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12235422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gentrychild/pseuds/Gentrychild
Summary: Gifted. Supernatural. Monsters. They have many name, live among the common folks, and the secret of their statut mean they can easily be hunted by people like them, with noone they can turn to.After leaving his clan, Lucas is hired by Mallory to help creating a new organization that will keep safe the gifted since the police don't know their existence and the different cabals are using the strife and chaos to maintain their power.Trigger-happy and deeply tired soldier meets idealist and manipulative millionaire. They immediatly become best friends and ride in the sunset while world peace is decreted. Sunshine and puppies everywhere.Trigger warning: lots of violence, mentions of manipulation, and people getting killed left and right.The story happens five years before Haunted.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I believe that I should talk about the origin of this fic. I wrote what was supposed to be a one-shot and that turned into a 25 chapters fic: Haunted, with what I believe to be a compelling main character.  
> So of course, LadyIrina had to LOVE the side character that wasn't supposed to stay in the story.  
> I have no control on these characters.

 

**Three years after Lucas' departure from the clan, Colombia**

**Killcount of the day : 16**

  


Everyone was dead in the house, men and women who all shared similar features, their bodies mangled beyond recognition for some, and they all showed a similar wound at the base of their neck. But the similarity did not end there : dark green scales covered them in patches here and there. Some of their limbs were transformed, some mouths were elongated and full of rows of too sharpened teeth.

Lucas passed among them, a jerrycan in his hands as he generously poured gasoline on the bodies. He had maybe ten minutes to finish this, more or less. He had learned to clean his mess from an early age.

Once he was satisfied by his work, he remembered that the blood on his face and or his hands just wouldn't do. Three years since he had left the Valentines, and he was still lost in the action and had problems emerging. He walked to the kitchen, grabbed a towel before passing it under water and cleaned the most obvious traces of what had been going on here. He took the black duffel bag full of packets of Dust, known as Polvo in this country. Bone powder from monsters, refined by alchemy to turn it into a powerful anti spell and a protection from diseases.

In their world where whole clans of supernatural being waged wars against each other, this was worth a fortune.

He left the house with the taste of the fallens' blood still on his tongue, feeling so terribly well for the first time in weeks. The oppressive heat did not bother him anymore, the shining light did not hurt his eyes and his sunglasses were no longer a necessary tool to avoid pain.

Lucas searched for the matches in his jacket, lighted one, and flicked it to the pool of gazoline before running to his bike, and he did not look back.

By the time the four SUVs with the rest of the mercenaries employed for this mission arrived, a little away from the ''safe'' house, flames could be seen devouring the house as they offered a viking funeral to the hombre caimanes charged with protecting the stock before it was brought to the main house. To be fair, Lucas had not realized how blazing the fire would be and had driven until he met his comrades' vehicles.

And as more than a dozen of private warriors got out of the cars, in full gears and too late for the party, none of them seemed happy to see him.

Belasco was the team leader, a man in his sixties, short and olive-skinned, with a frank face that inspired trust. Except, obviously, when he was glaring at someone who had blatantly ignored his decision to rest for the night.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you dumb son of bitch ?" he screamed at the young merc in English.

Lucas chose not to answer that, or they would be here all week.

"I got what we're here for," he said instead. "The job is done, there was no loss, and we can go back to the candles and get paid."

Two clans, two families at least, were wrestling for the control of more territories in Colombia. It was the usual story: they had started as protectors, guardians of their home and their neighbors, but constant fights and limited territories thanks to the various supernatural predators had made them into warriors to survive.

The hombre caiman, werealligators, were ruthless, powerful, and family oriented. The candilejas, known as candles to English speakers, were mean to the bones, a matriarchal system, and could invoke fire that stole life and luck. The woman that led them was an evil witch, if Elijah's word would be trusted. Except he hadn't said ''witch''. But once someone was affiliated with them, they were one of their own, and they took that seriously.

Belasko was not convinced by Lucas' reasoning, and looked like he was about to explode. His fingers were trembling, as they were far too eager to reach for Lucas' neck.

"What gives you the right to ignore orders ? To put my team in danger ?" Belasko said but he was not screaming anymore. He was trying to be calm, ready, and that was far more dangerous than a man mad with anger.

The mercenaries around him were watching carefully, ready to act to protect themselves, but not to follow Belasko's orders if he asked them to shoot him. They were privates from North America, recruited from another country so no one would warn the hombre caimaines of what was about to rain down on them, but they had been individually selected. There was no loyalty between them, just the promise of money and satisfied blood lust.

"You did not give us an order, you decided that it would be better to rest for a few hours but I didn't need it. I left a note to inform you to meet me here, because I knew I could take care of them, and the sooner we have all the Dust they want, the sooner we can get paid and go home."

He held out the bag, and tried to smile, careful to make his eyes soft and not to present a challenge. Next time he talked, his voice was low, so only someone close or with a good hearing could understand the words.

"Of course, you can shoot me," Lucas admitted as if he did not really care about any outcome. "But a bullet will only piss me off and I will do my best to rip you apart, and the loss you avoided today will happen. Otherwise, you can make the choice to never work with me again, and we all get to go home."

They looked at each other, and Belasko's eyes widened as he realized it wasn't a bluff. Lucas had been a blade without sheath since he had left his clan, his family, and it showed.

The team leader glanced at the rest of the private soldiers. "Back in the car. Smith, take the bike."

Lucas was about to join the rest of the soldiers when Belasko took a step to block the way, and grabbed his arm to pull him close. Every cell of Lucas'body was suddenly filled with strength and hunger for violence as some atavistic instinct got closer to the surface, screaming at him to react to threat.

_Kill._

He froze, forcing himself not to grab the knife at his belt, the blade whispering his name.

_Kill._

"Next time you need to purge your system, you take your fix of slaughter outside of the job," Belasko whispered in his ear, unaware of what was happening to Lucas.

As if Lucas was a common monster like the rest of them, _slaves to their appetites as they hunt for violence and blood and flesh._ All of them were gifted, all of them had supernatural abilities, and even if they made sure not to show it to preserve their advantage, half of them had a hunger they needed to quench, and that's why they took these jobs.

Lucas looked at him, and Belasko paled as the beast living within him was closer to the surface, its thirst appeased but that did not mean it was back to its slumber yet. Lucas realized his eyes' color must have turned to a dark crimson, revealing his identity.

"You're a Valen..." Belasko started saying before the bag was somewhat launched into his torso under the guise of giving it to him.

"You shut up about this," Lucas said, his tone deadly cold.

Belasko nodded and Lucas walked, cursing himself at how stupid he was. The whole point of taking care of the alligators was for him to soothe his instinct while his teammates would be none the wiser, and he had to reveal his nature on a whim.

He slid in the backseat of one of the SUVs, ignoring the mocking comment in Spanish of the female soldier next to him. She finally ignored him as he pretended to only speak English, focusing on the rifle on her lap. Except for sniping, Lucas preferred handguns and knifes. Too many gifted people had a healing factor that made bullets useless.

The meeting point with the candles was five hours away, on the boundary of the territories of the two rival families. Technically, driving through a territory that did not belong to the alligators was a possibility, but if two gifted clans had not secured some land, it was because something worse was there, waiting.

They had hit quickly enough to be in and out before the rest of the lizards realized what they had done. The candles would claim the attack, improving their standing while the dust would protect them from any kind of spell-like abilities the alligators would throw at them. And Lucas and the rest of the happy band of mercenaries would be handsomely paid,

And after that, Lucas would remember not to take any mission involving teamwork anymore. They were actually good soldiers, efficient and not as trigger happy as most mercenaries Lucas had worked with were.

But they were so damn slow. So easily wounded. Myopic and half-deaf for most of them, reacting too late because of it.

Slowing down for them was exhausting and deeply unnerving. That was probably the difference between a soldier and a warrior. An incredibly talented element was not efficient in a team, not when there was such a gap between them. He never had this problem when he was still with his clan, for all the Valentines were like him.

Lucas missed them.

He tried to crush this thought but that was the truth. That was even the reason why he had taken this mission, only to feel the old dynamics of a team working together toward a common goal, before realizing that it was close enough but not the exact same thing, and that left him with an alien feeling of not belonging.

No wonder why no one left the clan. It was crushing in the long-run.

He ignored the small talk in the car. Hearing people talking about their families and their spouses only worsened his mood. Hearing them complain about it made him bite his tongue not to lash out at them.

They were thirty minutes away from the checkpoint and in candle territory when a sea of flames and a deafening noise engulfed the leading car, blasted the second and the third where Lucas braked to avoid the collision, the tires screaming. Lucas threw his arms to avoid knocking himself on the front seat, but the woman next to him was not so lucky and her head bounced on the solid surface.

Lucas did not have the time to finish the word 'bomb' before he got down, his arms protecting his head and his neck, and a new detonation threw the car like a soccer ball before crashing it down.

chock almost froze Lucas but something awaken inside him, and the world became clear and almost still. Doubt, surprise, fear, any of the human response disappeared to let only a beast of instinct.

_Flee. You wasted enough time. Flee._

The armored car had protected him, but heat was starting to roast his skin, and soon, he would be trapped into a burning metal coffin devoid of air. He glanced at the woman next to him, saw her bashed head, and understood there was nothing to do for her anymore. As for the two in the front... He couldn't hear them, but didn't know if it was because the blast had deafened him, or if there was nothing to hear.

_Waste of time. It isn't as if you had the time to save them and save yourself. Flee._

He clenched his teeth, trying to fight the instinct, to at least check, but something akin to blind panic made him reach the door handle. Scalding hot metal burnt his hand but he was too far beyond to care and open the door, ignoring the seething pain. He climbed out, flames and horrible heat all around him.

He let himself fall and fled to the side of the road, away from the burning cars and his soon to be dead colleagues. Strength surged in him, soothing the pain on his right hand and he started hearing better as the seconds went by. Yes, his hearing had definitely been damaged during the explosion.

There was the screaming of the torn up metal and something huge burst out from the car. Humanoid but certainly not human, massive, his clothes damaged by the shapeshifting and his skin a deep red. The monster jumped out the car yelling, all in rage and fury, and charged at the men that had been hidden by the shadows as they triggered the explosions.

Ten of them, maybe, and all of them had submachines guns.

Of course.

Lucas whipped out his gun and they all pulled the trigger at the same time. His left arm moved on his own, and every time someone was in his viewfinder, he shot, utterly tranquil as his aim was absolute.

The red devil had the time to crush two of them before he knelt down under the fire, but he served his purpose as a distraction and eleven men were shot in the chest in less than ten seconds. Lucas ran at them, and by the time he arrived, the monster had had the time to reach two more of them and their screams filled the air.

That was exactly why bullets were worthless half of the time. Too many gifted were simply too stubborn to die when they were supposed to.

The men were locals, and only one of them was still alive. Dying, but at least, he seemed to take the slow road and could answer question. He was holding his stomach, blood pouring through his fingers.

" **Help** ," he pleaded in Spanish, looking utterly terrified.

He was so young. Young enough to never have considered the thought of dying.

" **Answer and I will** ," Lucas promised in a very bad Spanish. " **Who are you**  ?"

" **Gabriel Vasquez, from the candilejas. It was just a mission**."

That made no sense. They had been hired by the candilejas, and the Dust they wanted was burning as they spoke.

" **Why**  ?" Lucas asked.

" **It was just a mission** ," he repeated, his eyes feverish. " **Help**."

" **Answer and I..."**

He stopped as the light left the kid's eyes, as if it had never been here. Dead before he had the time to actually live. What a waste.

Lucas glanced behind him to see that the red devil was human again, albeit a badly burnt one. In his state, it was a spite-fueled miracle that he managed to actually survive so long to get back at some of those who betrayed him. It took him a moment to actually recognize Belasko.

He walked to him, and brown eyes looked at him with raw terror as he laid there on the dust, unable to move. His wounds were too severe, and the old warrior knew that the end was near. And that terrified him.

"It's going to be ok," Lucas said and they both knew he was lying.

The mercenary crouched by his elder, and stayed by his side. There was nothing to do, just the small mercy of not leaving alone a scared man.

Belasko died with his eyes wide open.

Lucas got away from him. Now that the rush was over, Lucas slowly realized that his whole team was dead, that his clients had betrayed him, and that he was trapped in Colombia with no way out if one of the leading clans was targeting him.

He was about to pass a hand on his face when he remembered in extremis that his palm and fingers were burnt. It was less severe than a few minutes ago, but the skin was still red and hot. Killing those caimanes had boosted his healing factor, or at least his capacity to handle it.

There was a phone in Lucas' vest, the kind that could call from anywhere in the world, and the one piece of equipment he had taken with him the day he had left his clan. Despite what everyone knowing him thought, Lucas was nothing but pragmatic.

Pride was another issue. He considered his options : to continue with no information in a country that belonged to people who wanted him dead, or to ask his clan some informations after he had cut ties with them.

It took him five whole minutes to make his choice, but he did call.

Elena answered almost immediatly, her voice sweet and kind, making sure not to betray how dangerous she was : "Lucas, sweetheart ! I was expecting your call !"

Nostalgia hit Lucas like a ton of brick, and he was not expecting it. This southern accent carefully dusted with steel brought memories of laughter in garden, of band-aids put on his knee and generally of an easy period of his life.

"Hello, Elena. What do you mean ?"

She was in a good mood, which meant he was in deep trouble and she has the contract written in blood that would allow him to survive this mess.

"Yes, the funniest thing happened a few hours ago. Your first name and your face appeared on a site, with a dozen of other people, revealing that all of you had made a hit on some Colombian clan, on the orders of the previous leader of one of their rival."

A change of leader in middle of a mission. Dear God, why was that happening to him ?

"Previous leader ?" he asked as he managed to keep a cool and neutral tone.

"Yes, the dear leader of the local Will-o'-the whisps, Maria Candileja, passed away. The usual circumstances, a suicide with a bullet to the back of the skull, or an unfortunate accident where a knife somehow found its way to her spine. A brilliant young woman, Selena, replaced her, preaching the peace between the two clans, and she was so horrified to know about the hit on several bases of the caimanes. She offered her help to her new allies."

So Lucas had the two most influent clans of the country chasing him.

Elena was not finished : "This whole thing is an example of bad taste, but also of the importance of relationship. The young Selena decided to throw all of you under the bus, because she thought none of you were truebloods or had someone powerful enough backing you up."

Lucas did not answer. He just looked at the wreckage around him, at all those lives lost for nothing. He crouched by the young man's body, and patted his pockets. Money and a car key. Perfect.

"That and intel," Elena continued. "Power means having all the right information in time, and that's the benefit of an old clan. It also constitutes an insurance, for if anyone one of us is betrayed, the wrath of the whole clan will fall on anyone stupid enough to make such a mistake."

"Is there something you're trying to tell me, Elena ?"

"Come back home, Lucas. You sulked long enough, and you are missed. We will always welcome you back with open arms, you just have to say the word."

Lucas stayed silent.

"Going out in the world is fun, I won't deny it, but the more you will travel, the more you will realize that there is only one place you belong. We are loved and feared by our people, the others are even weaker and you won't be able to stay with them more than a decade before they realize you're not aging. Loneliness will be unbearable."

Lucas knew that, of course. It was a lesson they had made sure to taught him before he fully realized the extent of it. He also had no doubt that these harsh lessons were born from love, as older and more experienced people did what was necessary for his own good. But love couldn't excuse everything.

"You lied to me. You manipulated me."

"Lucas..."

He hung up.

  


*

  


**Two days later, Columbia**

**Kill count in the meantime : 34**

  


Lucas entered the aerodrome, covered in a blood that did not belong to him, dirty because he hadn't seen a shower in three days, and holding a sword borrowed to a candileja that would never need it again because he was pretty much out of bullets.

He might have been a little unhinged.

So he froze when he saw a man standing in front of a plane he could use. The man was white, taller than Lucas, was wearing a bespoke dark suit, and leaned on a cane. Since his weight was on it and that he did not look like older than thirty five, that meant he actually needed it. Wounded, and with that, he did not look like a fighter. Something about him was too heavy, too still, he looked more like a Wall Strret trader that had appeared in Colombia.

He was looking at him as if he recognized him, but Lucas had never seen this man in his life. This was deeply unnerving.

"Lucas White ?"

Why him ?

"Never heard of him," Lucas lied with a straight face.

The stranger laughed. "My name is Mallory and I heard about your predicament. I'm here to offer you a job and a way out of this mess."

The world got still, and red hot anger replaced the exhaustion, filling him with energy. He could hear the two people inside the plane, a pilot and someone else, breathing steadily. The noise outside, the nature undisturbed which meant that the candles and the alligators were not near, but that wouldn't last. And he just knew, that he needed this plane to get out or something terrible would happen.

_Do it._

He tried to calm down.

_He is a threat._

He failed, and only managed not to move. He needed to act, needed to release this tension.

_Do it._

Lucas considered his situation, and the two clans whose members would probably be here in half an hour to kill the man that had destroyed anyone that had dared to come at him, the betrayal that led him to this situation, and the answer appeared : "What about no ?"

Mallory, if that was his name, tilted his head : "I'm sorry to hear that."

"But I will still need the plane. I can't stay here."

"And what if I disagree ?"

Lucas nodded and shot his remaining bullet in Mallory's chest.

Funny how they always looked surprised when he did that.

He watched Mallory fall to the ground, all the air chased from his lungs by the impact, but no smell of blood filled the air. Alive, despite being in pain and clutching at his chest as he tried to get his breath back, probably because of a vest. Perfectly calm, Lucas threw away the now useless Beretta and walked toward the wounded man.

Not being pierced by a bullet didn't cancel the shock of the impact, and Lucas had experienced the dubious pleasure of internal bleeding and broken ribs because the protection of his vest was limited.

Mallory tried to crawl back, fleeing him in a blind panic, or at least trying, but Lucas put his foot down. On his throat. Without enough weight to strangle him, but he made sure that he would stay in place. And sadly, he never felt any vest or protection under his sole, just the usual clothes.

Surviving bullet wounds wasn't so unusual in their world, not when the first gift everyone had was a good healing, but being tough enough not to be pierced by it meant a lot of power, which meant ressources or an old bloodline.

_Either way_ _, a threat._

Lucas pointed his sword right under Mallory's eye, and the blond man froze as he tried and failed to hide how scared he was.

"Mr. Mallory, I have worked with enough ogres to know that their invulnerability never cover their eyes. I am too tired to answer politely to blackmail, so give me a reason not to leave you here so you will buy me time with the lovely locals ?"

Mallory tried to sit up but Lucas wasn't in a compliant mood.

"Your name is Lucas and the last name you were born with was never used because you're a Valentine. Three years ago, while you were on a mission in Spain, you separated yourself from your clan and lived under the radar since, but you're not difficult to find because everyone who ever worked with you described you as extremely competent and always bored. »

"None of this is in your favor, Mal."

"You're wasting your talents on useless missions. No challenge, no point, and nothing to make you feel alive. But I have a job for you. I need protection and I need a trueblood to do it because cabals will soon want my head and they only respect strength. I won't lie, I will pay well, and you will have a chance to change things."

Fear was subdued in Mallory's eyes, replaced by fervor. The eyes of someone who believed in what he was saying. The dangerous ones.

"And what would that entail ?" Lucas asked by pure curiosity.

Mallory smiled.

I am going to bring safety to every gifted that ask for my help. Powerful and almost normal ones, clans, families, and lone wolf, everyone will be protected, because noone should have to fear for their life with no way out."

Ah. Lucas finally understood what was going on here. 

That man was insane.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucas and Mallory start their difficult collaboration while working to establish their cabal in the community.

 

  


**United States, New York**

  


The spell spread around the house, woven with will and power, and underlain with wild magic. Its soft touch laid on every living soul, and it started to act carefully, whispering about undisturbed rest.

The already tired guards on watch closed their eyes, just for a second, and when they tried to open them again, sleep was too compelling. The others private soldiers on rest, people who had learned to sleep with one eye open, fell into a slumber so deep that the transition was close to passing out. And in the master bedroom, Mallory's breathing became deeper as he started to sleep soundly for the first time in years.

And in the same room as his new employer, Lucas shivered as the spell touched him and. He opened one eye, all his senses in alert.  _Something was just wrong_. He sat up straight, cold biting at his exposed arms as the two blankets slipped, and he listened : the silence that shouldn't exist in a house where ten people were living, the click of the front door being opened, and the sound of heavy steps.

Lucas walked out the room without making any noise. He didn't bother to wake up Mallory.

Five killers entered the house, three men and two women, in full armor to protect them from the effects of their own magic tactical support. They all moved with the innate grace of the predators, and the kind of assurance one acquired when their control over their body was absolute.

The first man stayed behind to take care of the guards, and he never saw Lucas at his back, only the hand on his mouth that kept him from screaming as a blade carved a bloody path on his thoat. He died in seconds as Lucas laid gently him on the ground.

The second and third went for the rooms on the first floor, to take care of the other private soldiers that had accepted to help Mallory. They moved quickly, enough to not notice the already silent Valentine behind them, not until it was too late. Lucas surged forward, grabbing the man by the back of his shirt and he stabbed him at the back of the neck. Spinal cord severed, dead before Lucas had pulled away the blade.

The woman spun, fast, faster than any human should be and threw herself at Lucas. Years of sharpening his reflexes allowed the Valentine to avoid the hand finished by sharp talons, and he grabbed her arm and pulled it. The momentum brought her within reach and she tried to plunge to avoid his hands.

She failed, and two seconds later, she was on the floor, her neck broken.

The fourth and the fifth were on the second floor, in the corridor in front of Mallory's door when Lucas caught up to them.

The man was the closest to the door, a really nice blade already in hand, and the woman was behind him. The latter's fingers were moving through the air, as if she was playing an invisible instrument and every moment was creating a new note. Not a sound, but a disturbance in the air, and the more Lucas paid attention to it, the more he remembered that he didn't have a good night of sleep in weeks.

So he stopped listening and his throwing knife appeared in his hand, eager to be used.

The woman seemed really surprised to see her partner falling to his knees, a blade planted in his back. That was the funny thing with bullet-proof vests. They didn't do much to stop blades.

He whined, a pitiful sound, and tried to get up, but Lucas was faster. He backhanded the woman into the stairs before she had the time to run, and kicked the man in the head while he was still down. The sneakers Lucas had put on and the momentum behind the kick took care of his neck.

The woman called her partners, and got up in a blind panic as she understood no one would answer.

Lucas didn't let her the time to run.

Once he was finished, he got back to his couch and under his two perfectly warm blankets, and before he got back to sleep, he put his shiny new knife under his pillow. Huntsman model, perfectly balanced, crafted so it could be used against ogres and their likes.

No one woke up, their sleep undisturbed while Lucas kept watch.

  


*

  


Mallory sat at the table, his teeth clenched as he was simultaneously dealing with the pain in his knee, a familiar companion that was following him since the articulation had been broken, and the mess of his men dealing with five corpses. They had all woken up this morning to realize they had been under attack and the team sent to kill them had been killed without disturbing them.

He'd had better mornings.

Facing him, Lucas was drinking coffee, obviously more interested by his beverage than by the panic his nocturnal activities had created. Dark-haired and fair skinned, in civilian clothes, he didn't look like a professional killer. He seemed to be in his twenties despite being ten years older, was handsome and didn't look like he had to deal with something more stressful than some trouble with ambitious coworkers. Until you saw his eyes. Lucas' eyes were ancient and steel-like, and at odd with the rest of him.

"What happened ?" Mallory asked even if he actually knew. You didn't need to be a genius to understand that hired killers had met stronger than them, but he actually wanted to know what was going on in Lucas' strange mind.

"We were all hit by a spell that made our sleep deeper, while four operatives and the spellcaster tried to kill us," he explained before taking a sip of his coffee, closing his eyes to savor the taste. "I took care of them."

It was said on a neutral tone, the same Mallory would have used to warn his wife they were out of eggs back in the day. Lucas didn't consider an attempted murder a source of concern.

"And you didn't think we would like to be warned about this detail ?"

Lucas shrugged : "There was no more detail. I didn't see the need to spoil your night."

Mallory simply stared at him.

Lucas had accepted to work with him three days ago, and in these three days, he had managed to be the perfect bodyguard. He saw the threats coming before anyone else, could react faster than any of the soldiers Mallory had hired, and managed to be everywhere at anytime.

He had also managed to alienate Mallory's security team, his mood was alternating between coldly polite and grumpy, and he was incapable of working with others. His presence made them uncomfortable and the rarer conversation attempts were met with awkward silences.

"People tried to kill us last night," Mallory explained calmly, like he used to when he was talking to his students. "Do you realize how disturbing it is to wake up to find dead bodies in front of your bedroom door ?"

"Do you realize that the sentinels that were supposed to watch over you couldn't protect themselves from a basic spell ? This will be a good lesson for them."

Gifted people were a hidden part of the population. People feared monsters and their likes, and they had no idea that most of their nightmares looked exactly like them and their differences were usually so subtle that it was impossible to see for someone who wasn't in the known.

But the stronger the gift, the quirkier they got. Be it a strange hunger, a compulsion, or an instinct difficult to overcome, there was usually something. And Valentines were one of the strongest clan, demon killers, and worshiped as heroes.

That there was something unusual with Lucas didn't surprise Mallory. But he was now thinking something was actually wrong. When he was still a normal human being, he had worked with a Valentine named Abel. Charming until something got in his way, and then, things were ripped to shreds. And sometimes, these things were people.

Inability to connect with others, sense of superiority, seemed always bored. No superficial charm, but Lucas probably could have with an effort, and no manipulative tendencies like Abel. Still, that made a lot of common points with a sociopath who had the same set of abilities.

"I understand that you don't think much of us..." Mallory started.

"That's false !"

"Then I understand that you don't think much of our abilities to protect ourselves," Mallory corrected.

Lucas suddenly decided to be really interested in his cup. Refraining himself from telling what he thought of them, which managed to irritate Mallory. His men weren't perfect killing machines like Valentines, but they were well-trained and taking risks to change their situations.

They didn't deserve to be treated like children. They didn't deserve the contempt barely hidden in Lucas' eyes.

"We are adults," Mallory reminded him "we are taking risks, and we have the right to know when we are in danger. You don't get not to warn us. You don't get to punish us because we aren't competent enough for your tastes. You talk to me."

Lucas' face didn't show anything. Mallory could have threatened him, told him that they were done if his attitude didn't change quickly, but he disliked empty threats.

Lucas as a bodyguard wasn't as needed as everyone thought. But a Valentine, acting alongside the leader of an emerging cabal was sending a clear message to evey gifted he wanted to protect : that he was powerful enough to acquire a Valentine's loyalty.

Example was a powerful thing, and the gifted weren't different from others in this regard. They followed their betters, even when they were just glorified killers.

 

  


  


**New York, a few hours later, in the Kanes' house.**

  


Lucas was sitting next to Mallory in a house full of people. Even if his employer had not warned him that they were about to see an especially large family, the various clothes, books, and different faces on some of the forgotten family photos would have clued him in. At least three generations were living under the same roof, but only five of them were in view, all in front of the two men. And some of them were under and above them, if the various presences Lucas was sensing could be trusted. A mix of heartbeat and something else, only because he was so on edge that his senses were too sharpened.

He needed vacations after this. Something tranquil, like a beach, the mountains, or anywhere without people. He wasn't picky.

Mallory didn't seem to mind the sharp glances and the utter distrust on everyone's face. He simply sipped his coffee and waited until the silence was too heavy, too oppressive for people who had to be constantly on edge to protect those they love.

"So, what are you offering ?" asked Caleb Kane, a big man who seemed to be barely able to contain the violence that was simmering under the surface. He must have had trouble interacting with others. He was one of these men who could be as nice and polite as they wanted without managing to completely fool anyone because there was just something predatory about them.

Not the biggest threat here.

Mallory didn't seem bothered by Caleb's animosity, but nothing seemed to bother the man, not even dead people on his carpet.

"I am offering protection. As you know," he reminded with an amused smile that did not please Caleb.

"And why would we care about protection from a no name like you ?" he almost spat, his features contorted by scorn.

The woman next to him, Liz, leaned slightly and put a hand on his arm. Caleb seemed to immediately calm down, anger and animosity disappearing and only leaving behind some wariness.

"Why you instead of another cabal ?" the older woman asked more politely.

Liz was more dangerous than Caleb even though she wasn't stronger than him. In some packs, there was someone charged with dealing with outside threats, fighting the enemies who wanted to hunt their members, and someone charged with protecting the pack from the inside, dealing with each member so they would not hurt each other and themselves. Liz was the latter, which meant she had more patience, was more thoughtful, and would be relentless to protect those she loved. Worse, everyone would protect her.

Third most dangerous threat here.

"You're not protected from those who want to hurt you, Ms Kane. You pay tribute to cabals too powerful to fight head on so they will leave you alone, and in the meantime, you are constanstly making sure your family is safe. You are training your people with the most strongest gift, and you are making sure the most vulnerable ones are never out of their sight. How long have you been living under siege ?"

Liz gave him a bland stare, unimpressed even though she was clearly recognizing the truth : "This is the way we live, Mr. Mallory. Our power is a mean to protect ourselves and we are a delicious target because of it. You can't change how the world works."

"Then why agree to listen to us ?"

She looked at Lucas, then back at Mallory : "You have a Valentine by your side. It won't last, but it still gives you the means to be dangerous."

"So you agreed to meet me so I wouldn't sic a Valentine on you ?"

They didn't nod, but only because the 'yes' was blatant here. Even the dog at their feet seemed to look at Mallory as if he was an idiot.

The insane man who had recruited Lucas sighed and looked at him : "I was always impressed by the devotion power creates when the gifted are concerned," he told him, blatantly ignoring his hosts. "The only reasons why I obtain most of my appointments of the week is because the word spread that I have a Valentine with me."

All trace of humor left his face and when he looked at them again, they paid attention because the weight of his gaze had nothing to do with the polite guest from before. Mallory talked, and this time, they fully paid attention because he was done

"That's disappointing. Do you like living in fear so much ?"

The boy, Edward, glared at him but didn't say anything. The younger girl next to Caleb, Pearl, was utterly calm. She hadn't moved since they had taken place in the living room, and had been watching Lucas ever since. She was too still for a teenager, showing the calm of a predator, and if someone her age was here, that meant she had a role to play, and it certainly involved slowing down Lucas if something went wrong during the talks..

She was the second most dangerous threat here. Also the first Lucas would kill if it came to that.

"I shouldn't blame you," Mallory continued. His tone was calm, but there was no warmth anymore. Just terrible disappointment. "You are afraid of losing people you love because you don't think them strong enough to survive our world. It's a shame you don't realize that a gift is nothing compared to the strength of your convictions. »

 _And you have none of it_ , was left unsaid but terribly loud in the sudden silence.

"Our gift don't matter. We are human first. And human aren't powerful because they are strong, but because they are relentless. I am going to take control of this town."

They looked at him as if he was crazy. Lucas included.

"The cabals are fighting among themselves and are making sure to make a mess of this community so you won't attack them. It's sloppy and cowardly, so now, it's my turn. I refuse to accept a world where people can be grabbed of the streets anytime someone stronger wants them. I want gifted to have someone they can trust, someone they can count on without having to prostitute themselves or sell themselves into slavery."

Lucas knew anger and could recognize it everywhere, even when hidden by a pleasant mask. Mallory had seen these things, and they infuriated him enough to decide to create a cabal from scratch.

That did not mean he wasn't a complete lunatic.

"The truth is that I don't even need you to do it. I will create a system that will protect those under my protection. All they need to do is call, and my cabal will always answer. All I ask in exchange is a contribution, and never more that what you can afford."

"And if we refuse ? » Liz asked.

"Nothing. I am not here to threaten you."

This was clearly not what she was expecting.

"Change will happen, and you're welcome to come on board anytime you want," Mallory said.

"They are going to kill you. Tell him," she asked Lucas. "Tell him that threatening cabals is enough to cause a war."

"Ms Kane, he is at the head of an emerging cabal. They are all already at war with him. But they won't manage to kill him while I am working for him."

"Because you believe in his goal ?" Caleb asked.

"No. Because it would fu..." He looked at his feet and underneath, probably where the little ones were hiding from the big bad strangers. He had no idea if they had a good hearing. "… fudge up my CV."

Mallory laughed. "I'm afraid Lucas doesn't believe in anything, so appealing to his ideals is useless," he smiled. No one saw Lucas frown at these words. "Thank you for the coffee and for listening to me."

He left a card with the name of the cabal and a phone number written on it, and they left. As they exited the house, the dog followed them at distance, as if he was making sure they wouldn't get lost.

As they walked back to the car, Mallory's words were bouncing on the insides of his skull.

_I'm afraid Lucas doesn't believe in anything._

There was too much truth here for Lucas to be comfortable.

The power structure of North America was a matter of clans and cabals, clans were composed of family members with a similar type of gift, while cabals were organizations that recruited every gifted that fitted their criteria, promising secrets and power in exchange of loyalty and work.

And there were the others. People with gift that didn't belong to a strong bloodline, that weren't recruited by cabals, or didn't want to, and things were more complicated for them. Since they weren't protected by their contacts, they either had to find a protector and trust him or her not to abuse the position, either be on their own and hoped not to be confronted by anyone stronger than them. The people Mallory were interested in.

Lucas had always known about them, had always known how the situation was unfair for those weaker than him, but had never been concerned by it. Even now, as he thought about the children that had been hiding from them in the basement, he couldn't find the motivation to truly care.

Of course, it was terrible. But it was just the way the world worked, right ? The strong fighting to prove they were strong, and when they weren't, they hired someone to fight their battles.

Mallory interrupted his thoughts.

"It wasn't a dog, was it ?"

Lucas thought about the dog that looked so much like a wolf, that had been watching them quietly and had made sure they left without causing trouble. The most dangerous threat in the house and of the pack. The one charged with dealing with outside threats.

"Nope. It happens sometimes," Lucas explained. "A family member loses their humanity but just can't leave the family."

Mallory nodded, but Lucas could see he was slightly freaked out. He smiled, amused by how his insane boss was puzzled by how the nice dog was actually someone.

Then, Lucas tackled him.

Mallory yelped as they crashed on the ground and behind a car, just as a dozens of bullets passed right where they should have been a moment ago. He tried to get up, panicking, but Lucas put a hand on his chest and forced him to stay down.

Every sense of Lucas was sharpened, and when the song of bullets paused, he got up, his gun already in his hand and knowing where to aim.

He shot twice, across the street and to the apartment on the third floor. The shooter and the spotter that did not have the good sense to hide dropped dead. Lucas went down again, and waited to sense another bloodlust, the focused attention of someone who was preparing themselves for the kill. Something anyone who had to fight for their lives too many times learned to recognize.

_Nothing._

He got to his feet, grabbed Mallory's frozen hand and pulled him to make him stand. His employer was unnaturally still. The kind of person who froze when confronted to danger, obviously. Lucas also used to do that when he was little, but had been trained to act instead. Since the contract with Mallory was for a month, he might teach him how to correct that.

Lucas walked to the car, Mallory's hand still in his, the gun in the other. He didn't see the need to drop either until they got inside the armored vehicle. He noticed too late they had left Mallory's cane on the pavement. He considered getting it back, but he would have to left Mallory alone in the car for half a minute, and that didn't seem to agree with his employer right now. Lucas drove away.

Attacks were to be expected. With his idea of providing safety to gifted, Mallory was trying to reach a place that would grandly compromise the statut quo of the cabals. After all, if there was no more desperate people ready to do anything to gain some power and protection, how were they suppose to obtain willing and devoted slaves?

"Are all Valentines as good as you are ?"

The question startled Lucas. Mallory was back to his usual unbothered self, as if nothing had happened.

"I am in the top 15," he answered without thinking.

Mallory's eyes widened as he unfortunately caught the implications. Yes, Lucas was more than good at this whole thing, and talented Valentines stayed with the clan.

"Why did they let you leave ?"

"Who said they did ?" Lucas smiled with a little more teeth than necessary.

  


  


  


**New York, same day, 5:36 pm**

  


Devon had closed every window as soon as he had come back from school, and had finally taken off his sunglasses. Light hurt him more and more these days, provoking headaches that could only be calmed down by laying down on his bed, a wet towel on his eyes.

The thirteen-years-old went to the the fridge and to the giant bottle of chocolate milk, a special recipe from his mother. He poured some in a glass and gulped it down. Then, he took a second glass, this time savoring the delicious after taste behind the chocolate. He was about to pour himself another drink when someone knocked at the door.

He hesitated, but went and answered, even though he made sure to let the door closed and locked. Most of his friends weren't even supposed to let anyone know a kid was home alone without any adult member of his family.

_It's not safe. They could snatch you, and no one would find you._

But Devon's family was different. They could afford much leeway than most.

There were two white men waiting outside, both of them in suits. They looked like CIA agents.

"Yes ?" he asked.

"I would like to speak Mr. or Ms. N'Guyen," the blond one said. His voice was kind and warm. "Are your parents home ?"

"No."

If the next question was 'Can I enter and wait for them inside ?', Devon would refuse with all his might and run to the basement.

"It's not a problem," the blond man said instead. "I am going to leave a letter in your mailbox. Do you mind giving it to your grandfather ?"

Devon nodded, even though they couldn't see him through the wooden door. He was already calmer now that they had mentioned his grandfather, for no one wanted to anger him.

Ten minutes later, the letter in the backpocket of his jeans, he put the bottle back in the fridge, went to his room to get some comics and mangas, grabbed a snack, and opened the door that led to the basement. The stairs were uneven, but that didn't bother him anymore. He was too used to it. He walked down in the shadows without ever feeling the need to turn the lights on.

Light soon appeared anyway, but softer than what he had to face anytime he went outside. A light adapted to the sensitive eyes the members of his family acquired past a certain age.

The basement had been renovated several times since Devon was born, and had been expanded until it became bigger than the house where his parents lived. It was finished like any appartment, or at least, the rooms were Devon was allowed looked like it, though maybe they were better equipped than what he was used to.

Hayley, his little sister, was sitting at their grandfather's feet as he was telling a story. Two others cousins were spread through the room, pretending to do their homework, actually reading for one and playing on his phone for the other, and both payed attention to the story.

His grandfather stopped as he gave him the letter. And the teenager chuckled as his grandfather greeted him, unbothered by the long claws that finished the elder's fingers. With an infinite precision, he opened the letter and read the content.

As he did, Devon sat on the ground. There were chairs and couches, but none of the children ever used them. It was a matter of ritual : coming back from school and staying with their grandfather. Listening to his stories and the wisdom he had accumulated. He couldn't leave the basement as long as the sun was up and he couldn't sleep during the entire day like he used to.

His grandfather was taller than any men Devon had ever seen. Larger too. The brown leather of his skin had paled with the years, and his head looked like a ferret, but less cute. His ears, at the top of his head, were enormous and he never needed to turn his head to know when the children were doing something they shouldn't have. His mouth was full of sharp white fangs, and his eyes were blood red. Moreover, there was a huge patch of leathery skin, starting from his back and finishing at his hands, that looked like wings even though Devon was almost sure he couldn't fly.

His mother had warned him to be careful with him. To always show respect, especially as he got older, leaving childhood behind and the protection innocence brought. His grandfather wasn't only physically different, but his heart had also turned into something slightly unconventional.

_The changed ones can't love, Devon. But they remember it fiercely._

People didn't die in Devon's family. They simply changed.

Despite that, Devon had no doubt that his grandfather loved them as much as he could.

His granfather sighed, the sound odd coming from between his fangs. When he talked again, he seemed lost in thoughts : "The children of the night are not the most powerful creatures that escaped the Depths, but we are still here while mightier are not."

Devon frowned, a little surprised. In his grandfather's stories, children of the night were mighty and terrible, and the others rarely won against them.

"Once upon a time, a race of beautiful monsters whose hunger knew no end."

Devon shifted his leg to be more comfortable as he sat on the ground, forgetting about his comics and the distractions he had taken with him.

"All of them had wonderful and different powers. They were unlike the children of the night, or the children of the moon, and all the others distant offspring of the shadow. They were born as heirs of the Depths, living and breathing its might. And like the place that had given birth to them, they hungered for life. A whole village could disappear in one night, to satiate only one of them."

The children of the night had lived long enough to be wells of information, and Devon was conscious that it was one of their more important strength. He also knew that it was why their grandfather made sure to share these stories with them. But he could hear in those words that it wasn't just a story for the elder. He had lived it.

"Immortal, all-mighty, gods walking on this earth, but death covets all. Even though they were incredibly powerful, they still met their end. Not because something stronger appeared. Thankfully for the rest of us... But because they devoured each other until none of them remained. Even gods die when they can't control their instinct."

The children all nodded at once.

Gifted could be great and powerful, but without control, they were just plain monsters.

"What was their name ?" Hayley asked.

His grandfather shook his head. "The children of the night that could answer that don't like to talk about them. Naming something means calling it."

"But they are dead."

He smiled, showing his pearly white fangs. "But sometimes, Death bites more than she can chew. They are still here, little one. A shadow of their former selves, ruled by their hunger, but they are still here. Remnants of what they used to be."

He started another story, and only Devon and Maria, his older cousin, understood who he was talking about. They shared a meaningful look, and they both slightly nodded. No need to frighten the little ones.

His grandfather stopped in the middle of the fourth story and raised his head, as if he could see the outside through the thick walls. The children weren't surprised by the pause, they simply waited for him to pick up the story or to do something else.

The elder changed under their eyes, leather and bat-like features disappearing as a tall and handsome man in a beautiful suit appeared, still holding the letter in his now normal fingers.

Night must have fallen because he couldn't assume this form when the sun was up.

He got up, light on his feet, and smiling like a cat : "Tell your parents I was invited to discuss the future." He showed the letter. "Things are about to change or burst into flames, and I would be disappointed to miss it."

  


 

  


**Exact time unknown, still in New York**

  


Lucas leaned back on the bench and enjoyed the delicious warmth of the sunlight on his skin. The park was full of life, of people, and with the added benefice of not having Mallory anywhere near him. After two weeks, he had decided that a short break was needed before the two men brawled on the floor in front of all the militia, so he had left him in the middle of a room full of bodyguards and had made the insufferable man promise he wouldn't die while his protector was away. Mallory had assured he would try his best not to fuck up Lucas' CV.

A ball flew and landed near Lucas' feet. He glanced at the kids and kicked the ball without looking. It landed right between the girl and the boy whose eyes widened.

The fond smile on Lucas' face disappeared as they started playing again and he looked away, annoyance that had nothing to do with the little footballers, and more with their age, flickering inside him.

That was the problem with awakening. Not aging anymore meant having children was now impossible. Lucas would stay like this, unchanging, while regular people he might had known would die of old age, and their children and grandchildren would follow. Until Lucas got killed by something stronger than him.

A man in dark jeans and a designer vest walked toward Lucas, a guitar case on his shoulder. In his thirties, average height, hansome features and a general feeling about him that screamed money. Lucas took a deep breath and smelled something that reminded him of incense but different at the same time. The distinctive odor of a spellcaster : the cabals had decided to talk to him. This was about to get interesting.

The blond man paused by the bench and smiled tentatively : "Mr. Valentine ?"

Augh.

"Lucas," he corrected. "Valentine is not a family name but a description, and even if it was, I am not in the clan anymore."

"I see," he said with a bright and infectious smile. "My name is Drew and I belong to Alecto."

The implacable. Hopefully, Drew was talking about one of the cabals of New York, and not one of the three more important Greek infernal goddess. The Romans knew them as furias.

"It's good for you but I am currently under contract."

"We know about that," Drew assured. "And we also understand that your obligation to Mr. Mallory will end in two weeks. We would love to work with you afterwards, and this..." He touched the guitare case. "… is a simple gift to show our consideration. My card is inside," Drew added.

Lucas waited for him to leave before he opened the case, revealing a saber. The weapon managed to be simple and beautiful at the same time, more crafted than forged. The kind of blade he used to have when he was still in his clan.

He touched the steel and the almost invisible symbols engraved on it, the proof that the saber was forged with less than usual tools. It was created to fight gifted individuals, bypassing the supernatural defenses magic could offer and whose ogres had. It would cut through armor and armored skin alike.

How sweet. They knew contracts were binding for truebloods. Attempting to buy Lucas so he would betray Mallory wasn't only pointless, it would have been an insult.

So they offered him something that could kill Mallory as soon as the contract was over, with the tacit promise of any reward he would want. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter. If you liked it, any kudo and comment will be chershed forever.


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